


holding you with unclean hands

by silverfoxflower



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (kinda?), Angst, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Past Rape/Non-con, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: “It’s not paranoia if everyone wants to kill you,” Aiden said, smiling thinly. He walked across the room and sat on the corner of their bed, just out of reach, quietly observing.“You’re fucking spooky when you get like that,” Lambert said, and reached for him. Aiden allowed himself to be pulled down, to be pinned by Lambert’s warm arms, feeling his sharp chin on the top of Aiden’s head.“Just how I was raised,” Aiden said, keeping his voice light, his countenance breezy. It wouldn’t do for Lambert to pull this thread.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	holding you with unclean hands

Aiden had a system. 

He didn’t sleep laying down, in the open. He didn’t close his eyes around new people. Always locked the inn door and checked it twice. 

“Why’re you always so paranoid?” Lambert asked, reclining on the bed. His shirt was open, untucked. His swords were across the room. 

Aiden, because his brain was trained that way, could calculate fifteen scenarios to disable and kill his closest friend-perhaps-lover within the span of minutes.

“It’s not paranoia if everyone wants to kill you,” Aiden said, smiling thinly. He walked across the room and sat on the corner of their bed, just out of reach, quietly observing. 

“You’re fucking spooky when you get like that,” Lambert said, and reached for him. Aiden allowed himself to be pulled down, to be pinned by Lambert’s warm arms, feeling his sharp chin on the top of Aiden’s head. 

“Just how I was raised,” Aiden said, keeping his voice light, his countenance breezy. It wouldn’t do for Lambert to pull this thread. 

Inside his head, Aiden’s thoughts churned, _I could pull the dagger from my boot and slice his femoral artery, I could twist in his arms and crush his throat under my hand, I could-_

–

Aiden blamed the rough, thorough bedding he received from Lambert for knocking him the fuck out, because for the first time in ages, he dreamed. 

Clawing hands in a pit of screaming. They were pulling him down with their bloodied, child-small fingers. His hands around the rope were beginning to slip, he tasted acid on his tongue-

Fingers in his hair and a hand tight on his throat. Shaking him so hard his head snapped painfully back and forth like the swing of a pendulum. Blood in his teeth- 

It wasn’t the pain, not really, it was the loss of control. The suffocation of failure and dirty fingers in his mouth. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

–

“Ow!” Lambert shouted, and Aiden’s eyes snapped awake as his fist connected with flesh. 

It was a full minute before Aiden realized himself, and by then he was in the middle of the room, flung off the bed and crouched in hissing, defensive fear. 

“Fuck-” Lambert grunted. It was almost full dark, which Aiden’s eyes adjusted to quickly, horrified to see the drip of blood from Lambert’s nose. 

“Shit,” Aiden muttered, his fingers trembling as he moved one halting step towards the bed, then hesitated as he sank to the ground, his fingers twisted in the sheets. “I, uh …" 

"You were having a nightmare,” Lambert said, a little stuffy as he held his handkerchief to his nose. He pulled it away and examined it with a low whistle. “Did a fucking number." 

"Well,” Aiden said automatically, “it can only make you better-looking.”

Lambert snorted, then winced. Silently, Aiden moved to sit next to him, keeping his movements slow as he reached for Lambert’s jaw. Lambert didn’t flinch away, which was just another piece of evidence against his unguarded nature. No Cat would allow a man the chance to strike him twice. 

“It’s not serious,” Aiden said, examining the wound. It would heal cleanly in the morning, but there would be bruising. 

“You gonna kiss it better?” Lambert asked dryly, and Aiden snorted. 

“Sure,” he said, his fingers falling to the waistband of Lambert’s smalls. “I can kiss something.” 

Lambert gave Aiden a quizzical look and pointedly removed his hand. “This is bent, even for you,” he said, “this is … fucked up.” 

“Yeah,” Aiden said with a dry laugh. “I’m fucked up.” He slid to the other side of the bed and pulled his legs under himself. They looked at each other silently for a minute, and Aiden thought, _fucking spooky._

“I’m not expecting you to apologize,” Lambert said finally, his gaze listing to the side. “Guess it’s my fault for waking you. With Ciri, if you let it go on for too long …” he made an empty gesture, “you don’t wanna let her scream.” 

“No, it’s … it’s good you woke me,” Aiden’s gaze dropped to a point in the bed just in front of him, his lips twisting. “And I am sorry.” 

Lambert was going to ask him about it, Aiden thought, because that’s what Lambert did. Crack open the smooth, pleasant shell that had taken him _decades_ to cobble together to pull out all the twisted, knotted, ugly parts of him. 

He could tell him, Aiden thought, even as the every idea made his stomach roil. He would tell him if he thought that it wouldn’t make Lambert bolt. That is, if Aiden didn’t bolt first.

Lambert breathed in experimentally through his nose, making a gross, clotted sound. 

“You think you can sleep?” he asked, inclining his head. 

Aiden looked up, blinking. When he didn’t answer, Lambert shrugged and lowered himself down onto the bed. His ankle brushed briefly, warmly against Aiden’s thigh. 

“You can keep sitting there,” Lambert said, giving his pillow a few half-hearted punches before settling down, “Stare all you want, knock yourself out. I got a hunt in the morning, so.” 

Aiden’s mouth twitched, and his hand fell, hesitantly to Lambert’s ankle. It was bare, vulnerable, exposed by the covers pulled up to Lambert’s chin. Delicately, he traced the line of Lambert’s tendon.

“Tickles,” Lambert muttered, his foot twitching away.

“What do you do for Ciri,” Aiden asked, his voice rough. “When she has a bad dream?” 

“Sit with her,” Lambert said drowsily, “Eskel makes her warm milk. Vesemir tells her one of those long, droning stories that puts her right back to sleep.” 

“What do _you_ do?” Aiden asked, inching closer. 

“Not much,” Lambert said, shifting to give Aiden room. “Do I look like the comforting type?” 

Aiden smiled a little in the darkness and crawled forward. He laid down in the warm circle of Lambert’s arms and pressed his ear against his chest and listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart. 

A sharp dagger between the ribs. A crushing blow to the sternum. A sign of _Aard_ applied in close range to blast his ribs from his body. 

_I won’t let any of that happen to you_ , Aiden thought, his fingers twisting in the thin fabric of Lambert’s tunic. 

Then Aiden closed his eyes, and drifted off to some semblance of sleep, thinking of Lambert, and all the new steps he would have to incorporate in his system, to carve out a place just for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](https://greyduckgreygoose.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic)


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